


Ecstasy

by LostCol



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gap Filler, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 01, first time drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCol/pseuds/LostCol
Summary: Justin tries Ecstasy for the first time!S1 gap filler, after New York.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m generally more comfortable with a little bit of angst, but I was in the mood to try something different, and this ridiculous pile of fluff happened. (Aside from some mildly protective/good-guy Brian. Gotta have some of that, right?) So if anyone’s in need of a giggly, adorable, high-as-a-kite-for-the-first-time Justin, I hope you enjoy this.

He’d been begging to try it for weeks.

It was right after the holidays, a few months after he’d crashed into my life, and my little walking PSA had been to Babylon enough times to realize that E is a fucking fabulous substance.

I had two reasons for not immediately saying yes. First, the kid’s already a stone cold sober giggly energizer bunny whenever the mood strikes, so Justin on E? I was tired just thinking about how exhausting my night would be. And second, I’m still trying to convince myself that I have some control over him and his place in my life, and I was getting way too much satisfaction from watching him beg.

But I’d sort of been waiting for him to ask, and I knew the first time he did that it would happen eventually. It’s not like I have a leg to stand on telling anyone not to partake of illicit substances. Plus, I knew it’d be a fun night, and I was curious to see how goddamn funny he’d be.

We’d picked the night ahead of time, landing on a Friday before a Saturday he had off from the diner. He’d been crashing at my place pretty regularly on weekends anyway, and he wouldn’t have to get up for school or work if, god forbid, he had an E hangover, or just a really fucking bad experience. I can’t say I cared much, but he was concerned about Debbie or Jennifer finding out that I was corrupting their darling Sunshine even more than I already had, so I’d promised to let him stay at the loft “for as long as it takes until I’m back to normal, please, Brian, okay?”

As if I would… ah, well.

>>>>>

I’ve met the guys at Woody’s for drinks and pool while Justin finishes his shift at the diner. I figure it won’t hurt to have a few extra pairs of eyes on him, so I mention to them offhandedly that they’ll have a front row seat to the kid’s first high tonight.

Surprisingly, Emmett laughs and says, “Finally,” while he lines up his next shot. “How long ago did he ask? A month?”

Uhhh.

“Give or take.”

“I figured. He asked me about three and a half weeks ago. Poor thing was complaining that ‘the party pooper’ had said no.”

The guys all burst out laughing, fuckers.

“Why’d you tell him no?”

Emmett raises an eyebrow and laughs, “Oh please. That’s all you, Brian. Plus, I could tell he wanted his first time to be with you,” he says, making eyes at me, sending the guys into another round of laughter as Justin walks through the door.

I manage to snark, “The kid’s got good taste, then,” before the kid in question joins us, hopping up onto his toes to smack a kiss on my lips, sending the guys into yet _another_ fucking fit of hysterics. Might as well be high themselves.

Justin hangs around impatiently while we finish our game, but after “fiiiinally, Brian, jesus,” finishing and heading out, he starts dragging his feet. When we’ve slowed to a pace at which my not-yet-walking son could outstrip us, I light a cigarette and bump my shoulder against his.

“What’s up, Sunshine?”

“Nothing!”

He flashes me a completely unconvincingly smile.

“Uh huh. Is that why everyone else is a block ahead of us?”

He looks, for once, unsure of what to say.

“Justin, you’re the one who wanted to do this. If you don’t want to—“

“No, that’s not it, I promise, I…”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye when he trails off, and he’s blushing.

“You’re nervous.”

“I… well yeah,” he says, shrugging.

“Look, there’s no rush. If you want to wait, or hell, never fucking do it, that’s up to you.”

“No, I want to. But… you’ll stay with me? I mean you don’t have to all night, but like—“

“I said I would, didn’t I? Christ, the trouble you manage to get into sober? I can imagine an unsupervised high Sunshine wreaking havoc on the village,” I say with a laugh. We’ve already talked about him not being left alone – of fucking course not – but if he needs the reassurance, so be it.

It seems to do the trick, because he has a little more pep in his step after that, and as soon as we get into Babylon and past the coat check, he plasters himself to me, grinding against my hip and beaming up at me.

Little shit.

I let him suck the tab off my tongue before I drag him to the bar and drink a bottle of water with him in solidarity, then I tow him out to the dance floor to take his mind off things while we wait for it to kick in.

We’ve been dancing and grinding and making out like normal for… well, a lot of songs, when his energy level ticks upward suddenly without any accompanying change in the beat. I brush his sweaty hair off his forehead and look down at him, and he’s grinning up at me with this dopey smile on his face. When I smirk at him, he starts giggling and throws his arms around me, hugging me tight.

Oh Christ, here we go. I can’t help grinning down at him.

“How you feeling, Sunshine?”

“Brian!” he laughs. “Brian, everything’s! … Everything’s! … Brian, I feel so good!”

I laugh with him and we dance for a few more songs before I drag him – “Come on, Brian, one more song! One more song! One more sooong!” – back to the bar for another bottle of water. I keep my hand on his sweaty back while he sips his water and bounces gently next to me, and I turn my attention to the guys’ conversation, who’ve been standing around the bar since we got here.

A few minutes later, I have my attention on Emmett, who’s describing the dungeon-like bedroom of a 300 lb. leather daddy he hooked up with last week, when I feel a very wet tongue lick up my neck. Before I can react, Justin bites my earlobe and breathes “Briaaannn” into my ear, then he drops back onto his heals, beams that dopey smile up at me, and giggles. 

The guys all turn to watch in fascination when Justin plants his hands on my shoulders and starts bouncing like a goddamn puppy, planting kisses along my jaw every time he bounces up, giggling maniacally the whole time. I’m painfully aware that he’s destroying my reputation with every kiss, bounce, and giggle, but aside from shoving him off me or leaving, what the hell can I do?

Unsurprisingly, Sunshine’s enthusiasm is attracting some attention, and I see a few guys around the bar looking him up and down with hunger in their eyes. I don’t blame them, the kid looks fucking hot in his – I will begrudgingly admit – ass-flattering cargos, and his two-sizes-too-small green t-shirt that shows off a creamy strip of his flat belly. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are bright, and a bead of sweat is sliding deliciously down the side of his face. I don’t blame them for looking, but I can sure as hell imagine what they’d do with this uninhibited, overly trusting, everyone-and-everything-is-wonderful version of a kid that looks and fucks like every gay boy’s wet dream, which is why I’ve been keeping him within reach in the first place.

So I glare daggers at anyone that gets too close and ignore my so-called friends nudging each other and laughing. Fuck ‘em. For all they know, I just want the kid all to myself. He looks edible as fuck, and all the better if it’s all for me.

“Let’s go take a piss, Justin.”

“I’m okay Brian, you go!”

“You’ve had a lot of water, Sunshine. You sure?” I don’t want the kid to have an accident, but I’m not about to babysit him.

“I’ll stay here, Brian! I love this song!”

He’s still bouncing and has now added a head bop into the mix. I draw the line at forcing him to come with me – what am I, his father? – but I know that if left to his own devices, he’ll probably be dancing shirtless on a platform by the time I get back, and as amusing and arousing as that thought is, I weigh my options and catch Emmett’s eye. Mikey and Ted would be worse than useless corralling Justin right now. Plus, it’s obvious that Emmett’s the only one who gives a shit about him, and who’ll be the most tolerant of a potentially annoying as fuck teenager.

“Keep him here until I get back.”

I don’t appreciate the smirk on his face when he says, “Sure thing, Bri!”

“I mean it.”

“I know Brian, precious cargo and all that.”

Ugh.

“Stay with Emmett, Justin.”

He’s dancing so enthusiastically at this point I’m not even sure he hears me, but regardless, he’s right where I left him when I get back a few minutes later.

He’s shout-talking to Emmett, still bouncing slightly (seriously, the kid has not stopped bouncing, just up and down on his toes, since the tab kicked in. I wonder how sore his calves are going to be tomorrow?), and I hear him yell, “—isn’t he??” over the music when I walk up behind him.

With a wink and a smirk at me over Justin’s shoulder, Emmett replies, “ _Of course_ Brian’s the best, baby! We can tell how much he cares about you, even when he’s acting like a grouch.”

I wipe the glare off my face when Justin finally catches on to Emmett’s look and turns around, and, ignoring the swooping feeling in my stomach when his eyes land on me and his face lights up, I grab him around the waist and pull him back onto the dance floor.

Surrounded by a sea of bodies, he combines his signature bouncing with grinding against me and pushing his hands up under my shirt to stroke my back. He makes a few grabs for my cock, which I deflect, but I do let him bring himself off by grinding against my thigh, partly because by the time I realize how close he is, there’s no stopping it. I push my leg between his and slide my hands down the back of his pants to pull him harder against me, and after another few thrusts, he tenses and shudders in my arms, continuing to grind unsteadily while he rides it out. When it’s over, he melts into me, sagging onto my leg and resting his head against my chest; he’s shaking and giggling breathlessly, his breath hot through my shirt.

I chuckle when I lift his chin up and he has that same dopey smile on his face, but then I notice the look in his eyes. I don’t know exactly what it is that makes my gut clench, but that look, along with that bright, sloppy smile I’ve never seen before, and his damp crotch resting on my thigh…

Suddenly, I need to get him the hell out of there, get him away from all the noise, all the chaos, all the half-naked assholes pressing against us.

I tow him out of the club, signaling our departure to the gaggle of assholes when we pass by the bar. They’re still standing around, pathetically cruising every guy that walks by, Emmett the only one ever bothering to make a move, and they salute us and laugh again when Justin waves maniacally.

“Bye, guys!!”

It’s not until I’m wrapping him up at the coat check that it occurs to him to ask, “Brian! Where are we going? Brian! Where are we going next?”

And I figure it’s only fair to give the kid a choice, right? Even though we’ve planned this ahead of time, and where the hell else is he going to go?

“Want to come back to my place?”

“For sex??”

His voice is way too loud and excited, and a few of the guys near us look our way and laugh. I see a few of them look him up and down and raise their eyebrows, and I know they’re wondering how old he is. I mean, the kid barely looks 17 on a good day, and tonight, with his flushed cheeks, the eager expression he’s had on his face since the drugs kicked in, and his excited enthusiasm, I’m well aware that he looks about 15. Okay, maybe 14.

“Yes or no, Sunshine?”

“Let’s go, Brian!” he replies enthusiastically, beaming at me.

Unbeknownst to him, sex is definitely not on the table. We didn’t talk about it beforehand, and even though he has literally never turned me down, I’m not about to take the kid’s first-high-on-E agreeability as consent.

I sigh when it occurs to me that I should have left him with Emmett for a little longer and taken a trick to the back room, but, hindsight.

>>>>>

He’s a bouncy, happy chatterbox the whole way back to the loft, and when we get inside, I lock the door, set the alarm, make sure nothing fragile is out in the open, press a bottle of water into his hand, hold him still while he drinks it, and then let him bounce around for a while, prattling away while I have a drink and kick off my shoes.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting on the couch watching him wander around, staring at random shit with enormous round eyes, when he announces, “I’m going to pee, Brian!” and rushes up the stairs.

I wonder why he’s been using my name so much all night, especially now, since it’s just the two of us? I sort of zone out thinking about how nice my name sounds coming out of his mouth, so I don’t immediately notice him come back into the main room. When movement finally registers and I look up, I burst out laughing.

He’s standing in front of me, stark naked except for his socks, with an adorable hopeful expression on his face.

“Why the socks, Sunshine?”

“They’re slippy!” he exclaims, giving me a demonstration by shimmying his feet on the shiny hardwood.

“Let’s have sex now, Brian!”

And god, it’s tempting. He’s standing there completely willing, (almost) completely naked, hot as fucking fuck, and I’m saying no?

Ugh, fucking principles.

“Maybe later, Sunshine, but how about something else that’ll make you feel good?”

“Okay, Brian! But let’s have sex later!”

I chuckle, “Okay, Justin,” while I grab his wrist and pull him up to the bedroom.

His nakedness has inspired a flash of genius, because other than letting him ramble around the loft until he comes down from his high, I don’t really have anything planned. I _had_ been planning to just dance and make out all night, I wasn’t expecting that sudden urge to get him the fuck out of Babylon to crash over me.

I point to the bed and instruct him to, “Lay on your stomach,” and he looks at me with the most innocently confused expression.

“But we’re not having sex?”

“Not right now Sunshine, lie down.”

While he gets settled, I grab my new top of the line French lotion from the bathroom and strip down to my boxer briefs, throwing my clothes on top of his where he’d left them in a pile on the floor.

He pops his head up and looks back at me over his shoulder when I straddle his thighs and crack open the tube, and his eyes widen.

“Brian… a massage?”

“That okay, Sunshine?”

We’ve never done this before.

But the kid’s already feeling so good, why the hell not maximize the experience, right?

He nods vigorously and grins back at me, and then he folds his hands under his head and makes a hilarious show of relaxing his body against the bed, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes. His skin looks like silk in the dim light, and as I start smoothing the lotion over his back and shoulders, it feels like it, too. I’ll never fucking say this out loud, but soft, silky skin is just one perk of many of fucking a hairless, baby-soft teenager.

I run my hands down his sides, and he wriggles his body and giggles, his ass wiggling enticingly in front of my crotch. When I chuckle in response, he pops his head up again and looks back at me.

“Ticklish, Brian!”

I stick my tongue in my cheek and give him an innocent smile and a, “Sorry, Sunshine,” and I’m amazed when I get away with it.

“It’s okay, Brian! It felt kind of good!”

He’s still fucking giggling, and I’m trying to stifle my own laughter. Of course I know where all of his ticklish spots are, and he knows it. I was just curious what his reaction would be, and yeah, maybe I was hoping for an ass wiggle.

Speaking of which, I slide my hands down to his lower back and then quickly move on to kneading and rubbing his butt cheeks. When I lightly run my thumb down the top of his crack, he pops his head back up – like a damn meerkat, this kid – and says, “Sex now, Brian?” his eyes as big as saucers.

_Uuunnnnggghhhh._

He’s lying there naked underneath me, shiny and soft with lotion, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and soft pink lips parted slightly while he waits for my answer.

I suck in a breath.

“Not yet, Sunshine, lie back down.”

I lean up and push my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, encouraging him to lay his head back down. While I massage his scalp, he closes his eyes and lets out a moan, peaking his tongue out and licking his lips so they aren’t just pillowy and pink, but shiny now, too. Christ.

I figure my hard cock hanging over his pert ass with just the thin cotton of my boxers between us isn’t helping, and it apparently isn’t helping him either, because I feel him shift his hips under me and start grinding subtly against the mattress.

I chuckle and drop a kiss on his soft cheek, glad there’s no one here to see this shit, before pulling back and continuing the massage on his thighs, stroking my way down to his calves, then his feet. He doesn’t pop up again, too busy grinding against the mattress, and I watch him murmur and moan and grin to himself a few times before he freezes, shudders, and then melts into the comforter. I massage his feet through his orgasm, and after a minute of stillness, he opens his eyes halfway and grins back at me lazily, murmuring, “Mmmm, Brian,” in a rough voice that goes straight to my cock.

It’s obvious from his voice and his eyes and his relaxed body that that his energy levels have come down considerably. And since his eternal horniness is taken care of for the moment, and I’ve massaged him from head to toe, I suggest putting on a movie while I lazily stroke his calves.

“You pick.”

And whad’ya think he picks, folks?

“Again?”

“Again!”

I sigh dramatically, resigned to my hundredth viewing of Yellow Submarine.

“Put some sweats on and go put it in.”

I pull on sweats and a t-shirt on my way to the fridge to grab him another water, then I join him on the couch where he promptly cuddles up to me and drapes his legs over my lap.

Now, this kind of cuddling absolutely does. not. happen. For one thing, Brian Kinney does not cuddle. _Shudder._ And for another, the kid’s already so inexplicably goddam attached to me, I don’t want to give him any more ammunition, do I?

No, I don’t, but. Okay, there was that one time he was so drunk I figured he wouldn’t remember laying across my lap while he breathed in shallow, shuddery pants and tried not to vomit, and he either didn’t, or he had the brains not to mention it afterward.

Okay, those two times.

And that one time he had that cold and was stoned on cold medicine and I let him curl up on my chest, dripping snot fucking everywhere while I ran my fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp how he likes.

And ah, hell, he’s cute as shit like this, and he’s been a fucking ray of sunshine all night, and he’s always so fucking warm and soft, and all my smirking and sarcasm aren’t going to change that.

So I let him snuggle against my side and twist my shirt up in his hands, and I run my hands up and down his legs and squeeze his probably aching calves while the movie starts.

About twenty minutes into the (godforsaken) movie, it occurs to me that he’s been suspiciously quiet for a while, and when I glance down at him, he’s passed out. And fuck if he doesn’t still look adorable. His face is tilted up toward me, and with the way his cheek is smushed against my shoulder, his mouth is open in a perfectly round little “o”, and some drool is starting to soak into my t-shirt. His eyelashes are fanned across his flushed cheeks, and I can’t stop myself from bringing my hand up to close around his where it’s resting in my lap, loosely twisted up in the hem of my shirt.

He’s sleeping hard, and I have to rub his back and cheek and jiggle his leg for a while before he really wakes up enough to get to bed, doing a slow blink and staring up at me in confusion before he summons the energy to move.

“Hey, Brian,” he breathes out, smiling sleepily up at me.

“Hey, Sunshine. Time for bed, okay?”

He nods heavily and heaves himself off me, going to take a piss and climb into bed while I grab him another bottle of water to leave on the nightstand. Kid’s not getting dehydrated on my watch.

By the time I’ve pissed and brushed my teeth, he’s curled up on his side in the middle of the bed, only having managed to pull the sheet halfway up his thighs before he knocked out again. He barely stirs when I lift him onto his pillow, so after pulling up the covers, I run my knuckles gently down the side of his face, and, after a second’s hesitation, I brush my thumb across his lips. Soft as ever.

Despite the night being exactly as exhausting as predicted, I’m not super tired yet, so I jump in the shower to jerk off (and, you know, wash off all the sweat and glitter), and then I watch him sleep for a while, letting his warmth relax me while I watch his chest rise and fall.

He murmurs and rolls toward me, reaching out in his sleep to rest his hand on my chest, and I don’t let myself dwell on how pleased I am that I was there tonight to experience this with him. Or how much of a prick I know I’m going to be to him tomorrow for provoking all these disgusting lesbionic feelings in me tonight. And oh god, the guys are going to be such assholes.

I shove all that out of my mind and focus on the light pressure of Sunshine’s hand on my chest, and I fall asleep fantasizing about our long awaited morning shower fuck. Plotting out all the ways I’ll make him scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always massively appreciated!


End file.
